


drawn from life

by betochavez



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betochavez/pseuds/betochavez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi, a stressed CEO, spies a beautiful Kise in the park and decides to sketch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drawn from life

His sweater bulged and rippled at the stomach, indicative of his sitting posture; a sweater of a striking shade of red, familiar, Akashi realized, because it was the color of his own hair. Akashi was careful to precisely line the powerful curvature of the old man’s back, and the many, many wrinkles that sagged on his face, respecting the life and experience they represented. He flicked his pencil here and there to mimic the coarse texture of the sweater, noticing that this sweater was _not_ made of cashmere, the fabric with which he was most acquainted. He began to sketch the skinny arm that hung over the park bench when his cell phone vibrated; he hastily silenced it, and directed his attention back to the work at hand.

                Of course, Akashi Seijuro, known famously as one of the youngest CEOs in Japan, never typically kept his phone on silent. For a man of Akashi’s power and prestige, keeping his phone silent was akin to lobbing off the bristles of a painter’s brushes. Yet, here he was, sharpening his pencils and observing the regular people whose lives his company intimately touches—in some way. In truth, Akashi was not entirely certain what this company he inherited from his father dealt in. Nonetheless, he was quite good at managing it, even if it caused him unsavory amounts of stress, which his father warned him he must never reveal to his employees. Over time, Akashi realized it was better for his employees to understand that their CEO was a human being, capable of being worn out, just as in need of R&R as anyone else. This brought Akashi Seijuro to the small park only a few blocks away from his office building, where he could sketch and erase (mostly erase) to his heart’s content, and forget all about his responsibilities over the manufacture of automobiles. Or was it chemicals? Electronics? It didn’t matter, really.

                The old man took a deep breath, fumbled for his cane, and slowly began to stand up. Akashi sighed too, and set his sketchbook down. His model stumbled away. It’s always like this—of course, the person had no idea they were being used as Akashi’s artistic stress ball, but it was always _frustrating_ , just when he _finally_ understood the texture of his sweater, the pattern he noticed in his wrinkles, the look of his—wait, hold on, who is _that_?

                Not even a minute after the old man left, the bench was then taken up by what could only be described as the “human embodiment of sunshine.” The man was carrying a large knapsack, which he dramatically slammed next to him on the bench, as he shooed the two children he was with to the playground. They pulled at his hands, inviting him to the playground too; he smiled and said something that was apparently quite amusing, and the children squealed in delight and ran off without him. He leaned back, crossed his legs, covered his mouth and chuckled again.

                Akashi fumbled for his sketchbook. His own bench was on a hill somewhat above this man’s, and he had the perfect vantage point for observing his every inch. The man had bright yellow hair and golden eyes; Akashi cursed at himself for not having brought any colored pencils to capture their youthful magnificence. The man was dressed simply, with deep red corduroys and a blue sweater over a red and blue checkered flannel that would have looked tacky on any man except for him. He continued smiling, and as Akashi sketched his face, he found that he was smiling too. Not one to miss a single detail, Akashi managed to capture every curve of the stranger’s body, his single earring, even his shoelaces that were missing a single aglet each.  The stranger’s smooth face, his blooming cheeks, his even eyebrows, and his eyes, his eyes that felt like staring into the sun itself…Akashi coughed. This was getting out of hand. But when he looked down at his sketch, the man he had drawn seemed positively bursting with life, from his slightly upturned toes to his hair ruffled from the wind.

                It was, objectively, his greatest work. At his sketching class, where he was virtually unknown (a rare luxury for a man as scrutinized as Akashi), his instructor had often said that Akashi’s life drawings tended to look like corpses. They lacked _life_. Beautifully, precisely—almost scientifically so—drawn, but lacked the _spark_ that living breathing humans tended to have. But this man seemed ready to jump off the page. Akashi looked down at his drawing, then at the man, then at his watch, then back at the man. _He_ was the model who had finally bestowed some sort of sketching talent onto Akashi. Uncomfortably grateful to this man, Akashi thought that he had outgrown his old competitive nature. Still, every talent he mastered felt like a surge of relief—his father’s influence hadn’t really diminished over the years. Speaking of his father, he should probably head back to the office. Yet, he reasoned…he had time before he had to attend that meeting with the shareholders. He…he had to talk to him. But for what reason? To thank him? Tip him? Akashi felt his heart beat faster. This was stress! This, he realized, defeats the purpose of the sketching! Before he could convince himself not to, Akashi ripped the page out of his sketchbook and folded it, putting it in his coat pocket as he walked down to where the stranger was sitting. Oh my God, Akashi thought, what do I _say_ to him? I can’t just _open_ with the drawing, that might put him off, and _God_ , there was nothing Akashi wanted less in the world right now than to offend this shining creature right as he—oh God, oh _God_ —he reached the bench—what should he say, what should he _say_?

Akashi swallowed. “Excuse me, sir,” he managed, “did you, ah, drop this dollar?” Akashi fumbled in his pants pocket, pulled out a Panda Express receipt, put it back, and uncovered a 100 yen bill. He was impressed he had something so diminutive in his pocket.

                “No,” the stranger said, without tearing his eyes away from the children, “I don’t carry money.”

                “I understand.  Sorry to—wait, you don’t have _any_ money on you right now?”

                “Well, I—“ The stranger finally looked at Akashi, blinked twice in quick succession, and said, “Did you want to sit here?”

                “Yes, thank you.” Akashi, still reeling from the fact that this grown man (in charge of at _least_ two children) had _no money on him_ , sat on the other side of the frankly overfilled knapsack. He calmed down considerably, realizing he was _not_ the more ridiculous of the two. “My name is Akashi, by the way.” He didn’t ask!

                “I’m Kise. Nice to meet you.”

                “Ah.” Akashi’s hand calmly tapped his thigh, while Akashi’s mind frantically whirred, trying to find something to talk about. “These children…are they yours?”

                “I’m a bit too young for kids of my own, right? Right?”

                “Ah—“

                “No, they’re not _mine_ , but I do babysit them every Tuesday and Thursday.”

                “This is your profession, then?”

                “My, are we tense?” Kise said, as he stretched his long arm across the back of the bench, giving Akashi’s shoulder a squeeze.

                That was…intimate. Akashi took a deep breath. “I’ll take that to mean this is only a part-time job, and you primarily work as a masseuse.”

                “A masseuse? Please! If anything _I_ am the one who _receives_ massages!”

                “So you’re a celebrity.”

                “Ah.” Kise said, with a slight smile. “I was more famous as a teen. I’m a model, you see. Now I mostly just model for catalogues. Underwear and bargain menswear. Typical, for an aging model.”

                “Aging?” Akashi said. “You don’t look any older than 25.”

                “Modeling is a young man’s game. The older you get, the less you’re in demand.”

                “I’m in quite the opposite scenario.”

                “Oh?” Said Kise, tilting his head. He looked like a yellow lab puppy that Akashi saw in a pet store window on the way to the park. His words fell out, and his chest lightened, as if he were talking to a cute animal that one couldn’t help but reveal all their secrets to.

                “I am…I work in a company. And the company tends to value people in my position who are…older. Have more experience. It took a long time for anyone to understand that I am here to take…to do this job. It’s just…hard for people to take me seriously.” Akashi’s stomach dropped, having finally realized why he was so stressed all the time. It wasn’t just the stress of his position, but the stress of always having to prove himself to his employees that he was even _worthy_ of his position. Why….why did he tell this man all of this? Kise. _Kise_. Why did he tell Kise all of this?

                “NO WAY! I TOTALLY FEEL THE SAME!” Kise grabbed Akashi’s shoulder again. “It’s just…you get to a certain age and all of a sudden everyone is like, ‘oh, you can’t model that any more, no one would believe that you’re a teenager, oh, is that a gray hair’, but it’s like, no! It’s not a gray hair! My hair is just really shiny! Sometimes it just looks like that!”

                Akashi smiled gently. “You’re quite passionate about this.”

                “I’m just convinced I’ll stay young forever is all.”

                “With that attitude, maybe you will.”

                Kise laughed, and brought his arm back from around the bench, and interlaced his fingers, as if in deep thought. He was silent for a moment. “Hey,” Kise said, “do you want to hear something kind of naughty?”

                “With pleasure.”

                “Well…I was feeling a little…old, you know…”

                “I would give anything to seem a little older.”

                Kise pursed his lips and tilted his head again. “It’s _my_ turn for a story,” he said, in mock aggression. “Anywho, I was feeling old, so I decided to do something where I could…I don’t know. Well yes, I _do_ know. I wanted to show off what God gave me.”

                “This doesn’t bode well. You _are_ in charge of children two days of the week.”

                “Oh, please! I was paid for it!”

                “…I think it’s time for me to go.”

                “Oh, no, no, please,” Kise said, playfully. “I sometimes work as a model for a sketching class at a local community college. A, ah… nude model. There! I said it! I haven’t even told my best friend about that!”

                Suddenly, Akashi realized why he was so entranced by the stranger. He _knew_ him. Kind of. Akashi was there, in that sketching class. He had, once before, carefully drawn every curve of this man’s body. All of them. _All of them_.

                “You don’t say,” said Akashi, fingering the sketches he folded in his pocket. Suddenly they didn’t feel like sketches. He had practiced on his body before, so to speak. These sketches were a finished product.

                “It’s so funny,” Kise began, “how you can sometimes just blabber and blabber on to a stranger on a park bench about stuff you don’t tell your friends. Maybe it’s because they’re less likely to judge you.”

                “Oh, I’m judging you plenty.”

                “That’s mean!”

                Akashi laughed. A full laugh, leaning over with his head tilted down. The kind of laugh that doctors recommended you have a few times every day to stave off aging. “I guess it kind of was. I’m sorry.”

                “No need to be. I’m just surprised I saw a reaction like that from you.”

                “How can you be surprised? You barely know me.”

                “Oh, but I know your type. Overworked salaryman. Too smart for your own good, so you get promoted quickly. You’re the envy of the office, even though everyone knows that you _deserve_ to be where you are.”

                Akashi was, admittedly, surprised by Kise’s astuteness. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

                “That’s rather prideful, admitting how good you are!”

                “It’s hard to deny. I’m good.” At _what_ , exactly, Akashi was unsure.

                Kise pouted. “But, _decidedly,_ not nice.”

                Akashi, who was once _idolized_ the man sitting next to him, now felt somewhat annoyed. But it was a good kind of annoyed. It was the kind of annoyance one can only feel when they are talking to someone who is their equal. Neither is putting the other up on a pedestal, neither is looking down on the other. Looking eye-to-eye. Talking heart-to-heart.

                “I…am always nice.” Said Akashi, gravely.

                Kise scooted almost imperceptibly closer. He narrowed his eyes. “I…” Kise looked, rather dramatically, Akashi thought, away from him. Kise’s eyes widened. His eyelashes were so _long_. “Where…where are the kids?”

                “Huh…” Akashi didn’t quite register what Kise said. He still felt his head swiming from Kise’s _almost_ imperceptible scooch. God, what a _presence_ he has. No wonder people paid him so much money to take his picture. His eyes looked rather sultry, there. It’s a public park! Just one look from him felt completely indecent. Just one…

                “Where did…they go…” Kise stood up. He’s tall, Akashi thought.

                Akashi blinked several times. “The…kids?”

                “YES!” Kise grabbed Akashi’s shoulders, apparently completely forgetting that he was nearly a complete stranger. “WHERE ARE THEY? THEY WERE JUST HERE! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!” He frantically shook Akashi’s shoulders. Akashi realized, sadly, that this is the first time anyone has ever shaken him like this. No one has ever allowed themselves to feel this vulnerable in front of him. It was…comforting. Also, vaguely terrifying, given the situation. “I WAS JUST TALKING TO YOU AND I SWEAR I ONLY HAD MY EYES OFF THEM FOR ONE SECOND TWO SECONDS MAX AND THEY JUST RAN OFF—“ Kise stopped, and placed his hands together as if he were praying. He took a deep breath. “Well, no point in freaking out. Let’s go, Akashi!”

                “What?”

                “Please help me find the kids.”

                Akashi stared at him. “You want me to do…what?”

                “Oh please. For me.”

                “A bit early to say something like that, don’t you think?”

                Kise stared at him gravely. “This is no time for flirting.”

                Akashi, not registering the implications of Kise’s last remark, checked his watch. He was expected to be back at work in five minutes. But…what’s a few irritated shareholders compared to the livelihoods of two children?

                “You’re right. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

                 Fortunately, it was a beautiful day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the ground was soft from a recent rain, and the air was so clean one could eat off it. Unfortunately, since it was so beautiful, the park was filled to the brim with children just the age of Kise’s kids. Same bright colored clothes. Same haircuts. Literally, it looked like almost every kid had the _exact_ same haircut. No respect for originality, these kids, thought Kise.

                “Like, normally I am _very_ responsible. This is kind of new for me.” Kise explained as he climbed up the play structure, in an attempt to get a bird’s-eye view of the whole park. He leaned back on a periscope that allowed any small child to look at their friend on the other end of it. “Nope. Can’t see them from up here. How frustrating.” He peered into the periscope. “Hey, Akashicchi, look into the other end. Can you see me?”

                …Akashicchi? He must have misheard.

                Akashi humored him nonetheless. “I can see you. I can’t see your kids, though.” It’s not like Akashi was in a hurry. He had already abandoned being in a hurry 10 minutes ago. Kise was _certain_ that the kids were still on the play structure, hanging on the jungle gym or swinging on the swings, or, God forbid, stuck on that iridescent orange slide. Kise was taking his sweet time examining this part of the park. The protective bars only went up to his hips, and several confused children had stopped their playing to stare at him. Was this another of his attempts at remaining youthful? “Listen, Kise, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be up there. You’re not exactly…”

                “I’m not exactly _what_?”

                Akashi chose his words carefully. “The intended user of this equipment.”

                “Fair enough.” Kise moved to the slide, his shouts echoing, “Come on, let’s go check the bushes before someone calls the police on me.” Kise slid down with a perfunctory “Wee!”

                The whole park was rather large. The playground was on one side, and opposite the playground was a large field probably mostly used for soccer. The soccer field was the flat part of the whole grassy zone, which included a hilly area that also had park benches; this was where Akashi sat sketching not half an hour ago. A lot can happen in 30 minutes, Akashi reflected. There were also a couple of basketball courts to the other side of the soccer field. Large bushes surrounded the playground and the basketball courts; Akashi remembered sketching little kids who were playing in the bushes, picking off the inedible berries and throwing them at each other several weeks ago. If they were anywhere, it was probably there; the basketball court was currently occupied by middle schoolers, by the looks of them, and the soccer field was open and virtually empty. Though, Akashi realized, he doesn’t actually know what the children look like in the first place. That may explain why he wasn’t able to find them yet. “Kise, could you tell me what—“

                “Okay. I’ll start on that end of bushes, and you’ll start at the other end, okay? Good luck!” Kise took off, and Akashi figured he might as well just follow his orders. After a few minutes, they met at the middle of the semi-circle of bushes again.

                “Any luck?”

                “No. Sorry.”

                “Well. I guess we should check the playground again. Come on, Aka—“ Akashi did not get to find out if Kise would call him “Akashicchi” again, because they were interrupted by sprinklers. Several sprinklers.

                Akashi screamed. Then Akashi laughed. It’s been…so long since he had played around in sprinklers. Or was it…ever? Was this the first time sprinklers had ever gone off on him? It’s too late now! He _really_ can’t go back to the office! “Kise, Kise, are you okay? This is so—“

                “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THESE SHOES! THESE SHOES ARE NEW! WHAT ARE THEY DOING SETTING THE SPRINKLERS OFF AT THIS TIME? IT’S THE DAY! THERE’S STILL PEOPLE HERE!”

                “I think…I think…” Akashi could hardly get out his thought, he was laughing so hard. “I think it’s pretty common for sprinklers to go off in the afternoon. I thought you came to this park a lot.”

                “I DO! I’M JUST NOT USUALLY RUNNING AROUND IN THE BUSHES! GETTING MUD AND DIRT AND WHO _KNOWS WHAT_ ALL OVER MY…GOD!”

                “Kise…Kise..” Akashi managed to get out, his face wet and red, “It’s okay. Look. I’m all wet too. And I work in an _office_! This is completely inappropriate for…oh my god!”

                “Heh…heh…” Kise looked down at his ruined ensemble, and smiled. “Your boss is going to _kill_ you.”

                “If he could catch me. I’m pretty fast. And right now, _extremely_ slippery.”

                “ _That_ sounds like a challenge.”

                “Hah, maybe, but not for you.”

                Kise laughed, and moved to place his hand on Akashi’s shoulder. Akashi deftly stepped backwards to avoid the contact, and smiled slyly at Kise. Kise made the same move, and Akashi again moved away, even faster. Kise rolled up his sleeves, and chased after Akashi, and Akashi ran, their shoes going _slosh slosh slosh_ on the pavement, children and adults alike stared at them, and wondered why on _Earth_ this tall, blonde, vaguely familiar man was chasing what appeared to be a red-haired salaryman through their neighborhood park, both sopping wet.

                Kise managed to grab Akashi’s arm right in front of the water fountains. “Ha!”

                “Hey,” said Akashi, panting hard, “you _are_ pretty fast.”

                “I should hope so. I used to be an athlete, you know.”

                “Oh yeah? What sport.”

                “Basketball, actually.”

                “Really? I used to—“

                “UNCLE RYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUTA!”

                They turned around, and there were two children, both with black hair. Or, maybe just really, really dark blue hair. “Uncle Ryouta, where did you _go_!”

                “Where did _I_ go! Where did _you_ go? I’ve been looking around for you for the past 20 minutes!” Kise had crossed his arms, apparently attempting to take on the role of a disciplinary. It doesn’t really suit him, thought Akashi.

                “We went to the bathroom!”

                “The… the bathroom… for 20 minutes?”

                “I had a hard time,” the younger of the two said, wringing his hands.

                “Well… okay.” Kise said, taking a deep breath. “Just…just make sure to tell me…when you leave the playground, okay? I was really worried.”

                Kise, at this moment, _did_ look really worried. Akashi wasn’t sure how he felt about Kise taking the long way to finding them. But maybe… maybe Kise knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He double, triple checked the playground—the most obvious spot, since this was where he last saw them. He knew about childish proclivities to hang around in plants, among dirt and critters. Kise was young at heart, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel the anxiety of losing his kids. Whom, it seemed, he deeply cared about. Akashi wondered why he tried to appear so calm and carefree. It wasn’t for _his_ sake, was it?

                “Worried about _us_? About your job, you mean. Mama won’t keep you around forever if you keep losing us. No matter _how_ big of best friends you are.”

                “This was the first time!”

                “What about the grocery store? Or the movie theater? Or the—“

                “Okay, okay,” Kise said, “but those times you guys ran away from _me_ —“

                “We went to the bathroom.”

                “This will be all fixed once you guys grow up and get regular, adult sized bladders.”

                “Then we won’t need _you_ , anymore, stupid!”

                Kise stifled a laugh. It was important that he not encourage this kind of behavior, no matter how amusing it was. They had the blazing attitude of their dad, but with the smarts of their mom. What a deadly combination. “All right, all right, just run off and play.”

                The kids stared at Akashi. Akashi suddenly realized how out of place he was in this group. He hadn’t interacted with a child in…years. Years. The younger of the two glared at him. “Who is this?”

                “He’s a friend.” Kise said, winking at Akashi.

                “Uncle Ryouta, always making _friends_ …” The children winked quickly at each other.

                “You’re too young for winking! Go play on the swings!”

                The kids scampered off, already disinterested in whatever amusement Akashi’s presence could have provided them.  “Sorry about that. They’re so young, but they’re already a handful, sass-wise…”

                “I see.”

                “Anyway, thanks for helping me look for them! That was _seriously_ so kind of you. You didn’t have to do that.”

                “Yes, I…”

                “Boy, was I lucky to meet _you_ today.”

                “No!” Akashi was shocked at his own interjection. “I mean, I was lucky to meet _you_ today… actually, I have something for you…” Akashi reached into his coat pocket for his sketches from earlier. Much, much earlier. He was very, very late. He really, really did not care…oh. What was this?

                Akashi pulled out the gunky remains of his sketches.

                “Oh…it must have been from the sprinklers…”

                “What? What would the sprinklers have to do with that?”

                “I wanted to give you…my card. My business card.”

                “Sorry, I’m already affiliated.”

                “No! I mean. No. My card…because it has my…cell phone number on it. I wanted to give you my number.”

                “Oh!” Kise’s eyes widened. His was clearly the face of a man who is used to receiving numbers from men all the time. Akashi suddenly felt very, very sheepish. He felt regret from his toes to his forehead, which was getting very, very hot. Burning, really.

                “Ah…I mean…if you want it, that is…”

                “I do want it.” Kise pulled a pen out of his pocket and grabbed Akashi’s hand. Kise’s hand was surprisingly calloused for being a model/nanny. He _did_ say he used to play basketball. “Call me. You said you played basketball, right? We could play a little one-on-one.”

                “That…that sounds great. I did, actually, play basketball in middle and high school. I should warn you, though. I’ve never lost.”

                “You played in high school? Huh. I wonder how we haven’t met.”

                Akashi remembered carefully sketching Kise’s bare thigh against a metal stool in life drawing class. “Perhaps it just had to be today.”

                “Guess so.” Kise glanced over to the playground. He shuffled his feet, kicking up gravel. “I should…go watch my kids.”

                “I should probably head back to work. Expect to hear from me later this week.”

                “Oh, yes _sir_.” Kise chuckled at his own joke, and slowly sauntered back to the playground, looking back only once. Probably to make sure Akashi was looking at his ass as he walked away. Which he was, of course.

                _Yes, sir_. Akashi went back to his bench and packed up his sketching supplies. _Yes, sir_. He was so used to hearing those two words, though hearing them from that gorgeous stranger, in that _tone_ of voice… _Yes, sir._

Akashi was late. But what could anyone do? It was his company. He was _sir_. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes,  sir.

               

 

               

               

               

* * *

 


End file.
